


What to do if your heart is haunted?

by salvadore



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, Gift: Treat, M/M, NO CAPES, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-08-23 17:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvadore/pseuds/salvadore
Summary: A shiver runs down Dick’s spine. It could be the autumn breeze, but Dick thinks he feels a weight like a gentle hand pressing, momentarily, to the small of his back.





	What to do if your heart is haunted?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [join_the_conga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/join_the_conga/gifts).

> Thank you for the prompt: _If the creator prefers a "no capes" prompt, Dick and the Batfam meeting Jason as ghost hunters would be sick AF._
> 
> Thanks to [REDACTED] (from whom I stole this prompt) for encouraging me to do so, and helping me work through edits. Alternate Title: "Missed Connections: Hundreds Year Old Ghost and the Guy Who Whispered Your Name Three Times in the Mirror"

There's an old neighborhood in Gotham that curves around the north of the city. You have to drive out past the Colonial houses that remain of the once rich, 19th century population, past Wayne manor on it's hill, and into its shadow. And there, just inside of city limits, rests a quiet neighborhood of white picket fences and two-story bungalows. The city won't call it a landmark, but it's old. Houses have been fiercely held onto despite the pressure and allure of developers. And it has its own urban legend. 

Unlike broader American legends, or the other ghouls of Gotham, the Red Riding Hood is as powerful a ghost as Dick and his brothers have ever investigated. Dick knows the story backwards and forwards. Known to walk the length of the block during the witching hour, the apparition was said to make the sound of a stick being dragged along the picket fence. But the deeper, the closer to this pocket of Gotham you got the residents shook their head. Not a stick, they said, but a bat. One he used to patrol the neighborhood and keep it safe. 

If true, that would take a lot of spiritual energy. The most Dick had heard of before the Restless Indiana Witch. She'd been known to walk five squares miles. But when he took Tim and Damian out to investigate, they hadn't been able to pick up a single sighting. That wasn't the sort of disappointment Dick expected today, though. 

"You almost ready, Timmy?" Dick shouts to his brother. Head bent over their EMF readers, screwdriver in hand, Tim ignores him. In the front seat of the hatchback, Damian slumps low with his Game Boy in hand. It had been a long haul back to Gotham after weeks of motel rooms and nothing to show. They were tired, and ready for a break, Dick knew. 

This impromptu investigation was their last shot for a supernatural experience this summer. The boys would be back in school and Dick would have a book deadline to contend with. A book he couldn’t write if he didn’t have anything supernatural to report. 

The pitch had been the Witch in Indiana. But when that had flopped, the part of him that always returned to the Red Hood steered him toward this detour. 

The legend was a personal favorite of his. It was told to him his first week at Gotham Academy. The students had swapped local gossip and ghost stories for anything Dick could tell them about his life on the road. Some tales were familiar. Some, like the Bat of Gotham, were fascinating. But none consumed his imagination the way the Red Riding Hood had. Dick once spent hours pouring over microfiche until he thought he’d pinned down the obituary and origin for the story. 

Looking at the house, the nexus point in question, Dick feels anticipation mount. The Red Hood was Dick’s hail Mary.

Dick leans against the white picket fence as he gazes at the red brick of the bungalow. He marvels at how well taken care of the house is. It’s currently unoccupied, but still held by an in-law of an in-law of a Kane. That had been a surprising stroke of luck. Easier to charm a night at the house for his research from distant family. Albeit with many cousins once removed, and Damian's adoption into Dick's family. It hadn't stopped their hospitality. 

Tim starts humming under his breath, a song that played on the drive back. A shiver runs down Dick’s spine. It could be the autumn breeze, but Dick thinks he feels a weight like a gentle hand pressing, momentarily, to the small of his back. He stands up straight. The white lace curtain in the dining room window seems to move, but Dick can’t be sure he didn’t will it so. 

“I’m going to go inside,” Dick says, deciding to do so almost as the words leave his lips. Damian props one of his feet up on the open car window. 

“And you want me to tell Tim?” he asks. Dick doesn’t need to look at Damian to know he is giving Dick an exasperated look. Their relationship is better than it was at the beginning of the summer, but some things don’t change. “Don’t do anything stupid, Richard.”

Dick turns to him, and with the small flashlight he’d pulled out of his pocket, he salutes Damian with a wink. Damian rolls his eyes. Then they’re glued right back on Animal Crossing, and it’s Dick and the house and whatever he hopes is waiting inside. 

It’s still high afternoon, and the sun coming through the large front windows makes turning on lights unnecessary. After sundown, the vacancy and lack of furniture will make the house spookier than it is. But they have time yet. 

Dick’s feet are quiet on new laid carpet. There are lines of blue painter’s tape protecting the original moldings from a new coat of paint. Renovation is underway to prepare the house for new leasing. For now, though, the dining room holds the only piece of furniture Dick can see. It’s a large dining table covered in a white sheet that could seat seven comfortably. , The table is a dark stained wood - cherry or mahogany. Definitely not birch, with properties known to repel hauntings. Dick makes the observation somewhat hysterically in his mind. 

Because what he sees makes his mind and body go completely still. 

Gotham’s Red Riding Hood, looks exactly like his obituary. He’s lean, like he was only coming into his broad shoulders when he died. He wears a button up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and twill vest. And a red ball cap pulled low on his head. 

He looks like he stepped out of a period piece. If Dick’s brain wasn’t short circuiting he might wonder if this is a prank. Who, though, would have the time and forethought to so perfectly cast Dick’s ghost and leave him waiting for Dick to discover.

Dick remembers the other name for Gotham’s Red Riding Hood. Guardian Angel. The protector of those in the Wayne Manor’s shadow. Looking at him, Dick thinks of the Romantics and their sculptures depicting Angels and Lucifer as staggering beauties. And how the man before him would have sparked such inspiration.

Dick breathes out the name, “Jason Todd.” 

Jason licks his lips. A blush rises to Dick’s cheeks as the ghost - the _ghost_ his brain hooks on and repeats and repeats - obviously looks him over and starts to grin. 

He hops off his seat on the table. And there’s nothing else to call it but performative, the way he tucks his hands into the pockets of his pants and ducks his head as he approaches. That smile widens as he gets close to Dick, making direct eye contact all the while. 

“Hello,” he greets. It’s a whisper, and there’s something lacking in it that obliterates any suspicions Dick has about this being a prank. 

Dick lifts his flashlight up and shines it in Jason’s eye. Though he winces against the light, it reveals his translucence, going through him to reflect on the wall behind. Dick takes a sharp breath. 

When Jason touches him, though, he is tangible. Dick can feel the curl of each finger around his wrist. Carefully, Jason pushes Dick’s arm down until he’s pointing the flashlight at the floor. Then he steps ever closer. For all that he is soft and unreal at the edges, Jason doesn’t move through Dick like he expects. His chest is solid against Dick’s own. 

Jason hesitates, and Dick can't breathe from fear that Jason will disappear. He’s so taunt with anticipation and it must read on his face because Jason slowly smiles. There are fingers tilting Dick's chin up. He would have expected Jason’s touch to be cold but it’s as reassuring as the ghostly touch outside. Dick thinks maybe Jason was outside with him and that touch to his back wasn’t all in his head. 

"What's a beautiful boy like you doing in a haunted house like this?" Jason asks, and Dick doesn’t know how to respond. He tries, lips parting while he racks his brain for the perfect rejoiner, because Dick knows a line when he hears one, even if it’s from a ghost. 

“I was looking for you,” Dick says, tongue tripping over the words. 

It must be the right answer though. Jason leans in like he's going to kiss him. Dick almost drops his flashlight as he tips closer, wanting to be kissed more than anything. Cheeks burning now as he thinks of how infatuated he was by Jason’s picture. This close Jason’s eyes are such a beautiful blue-green. Dick thinks it was a shame the photo he found was in black and white. It didn’t do him any justice. 

The front door slams, and the stomping of feet on the carpet must be Damian. Jason disappears in an instant, leaving Dick bereft and swaying into empty air. 

"What are you doing?" Damian asks. He has his hands firm on his hips, and a scowl starting between his eyebrows. The startled laugh that bursts out of Dick doesn’t do anything to quell Damian’s concern. He moves closer, starting to eye the room in suspicion but Dick doesn’t know what to say. He reaches out and pulls Damian in, ruffling his hair until Damian pushes his hand away. Then he squeezes Damian’s shoulder to reassure him that he’s alright. 

With his free hand, Dick touches his own lips and a smile breaks over them. Haunted house, indeed.


End file.
